Speeding from the Pain
by Violette Mai
Summary: Death Fic When Yamato's life goes out of control, who can save him, or is already too late?


Speeding from the Pain  
  
(I do Not own Digimon) ................................  
  
On the country side of Tokyo where no city lights or tall buildings were seen was a small house settled in between tall tree's. Two figures stood on the porch saying their goodbyes.  
  
"And make sure to cut your hair before you come over again Yamato, and do something about your clothes. You walk around like a gay rock star!" A short graying lady nagged, her dark eyes accusing.  
  
"Grandma" Yamato seethed, grinding his teeth together but it looks like his grandma paid no attention to him.  
  
"Tell your father I hope him well, poor guy having to deal with a rebel of a son all the time."  
  
"Grandma!" Yamato barked, clenching his car keys in his fist.  
  
"Alright Yamato! You think you could show your elders some respect?" She mumbled, her voice fading as she stepped back into her house shutting the porch light off and leaving him to stand in the darkness.  
  
He sighed running a pale hand threw his blonde hair and turned away from the house. His hands were shaking, and his stomach churned. Today has not been a good day at all. He climbed into his black sports car and rested his head on the steering wheel. All day he had to deal with his grandmothers nagging and complaining about how he does everything wrong in his life. To her he was a gay rock star who does nothing important in his life but do drugs, drink, and have sex when not performing on stage. He hated the idea, but with his depression it was slowly becoming the truth. Drugs have becoming a constant thing in his life, always stashing it, selling it, and taking some about five times a week. Drinking he didn't do often, he hated the taste of it burning down his throat. Sex was an occasion, but he felt like a whore using any fan or band member for a stress reliever when he didn't care about them as a lover. Yup, Ishida Yamato, a 17 year old rock star with plenty of drugs, crowds of fans but few friends. Damn crest of friendship, what a joke. The friends he used to have, he brushed aside a long time ago. And how did his grandmother know about his life as a gay rock star, drugs, alcohol and sex? Damn bitch read his journal. It was a wonder why she hasn't told his father.  
  
A few raindrops caught his attention, he watched, as they grew more frequent until the rain poured down in heavy sheets making it hard to see. Starting the car he pulled out into the country road and started making his way home. He really was in no hurry, there wasn't going to be a cold supper waiting for him. His father was out of town on another business trip. He knew he would get home to the apartment being dark, cold, and messy. It's been a while since he actually cleaned the place up, it didn't matter no one beside himself was going to see it any way. Takeru use to come to visit him every other weekend, but like everything else in his life that was important, it faded out. He shouldn't worry though, Takeru was just fine without him. He was old enough to take care of himself. /I'm FINE Yamato, will you lay off? I don't need you mothering me all the time! / Takeru's words rung in his mind as the feeling of rejection formed in the pit of his stomach. What a lovely memory to think of Yamato. He bit his lip, desperately fighting the sobs that threatened to come. He didn't need to cry. Fucking depression. Why should he cry over people that obviously never cared about him in the first place? They don't need him, never have. They have their own lives to busy themselves with. C'mon, it doesn't matter that they all left him, right?  
  
The anger that burned inside him made him feel he wanted to scream, throw a fit and pull out his soft locks of hair. No one needs him! No one! There is no reason to live. His foot pushed down on the gas petal, making the car move faster.  
  
40 50 60 miles per hour, and faster  
  
All these feelings that were swimming inside him, had no escape. No where to go. The anger, rejection, helplessness, hate, everything just swirled around beating against his chest. 60 70 80 miles per hour  
  
No one needed him. Takeru's growing up, taking care of himself and creating a wonderful relationship with Hikari. His grandmother hated him, couldn't stand the sight of him. Always making him feel worthless. Father was never home, always avoiding him. He made it quit clear that he didn't care about his son. Taichi, he had everyone. Sora, Joe, Mimi, his soccer team, jocks, teachers, they all looked at him like he was a god. Everyone had someone, everyone but him.  
  
80 90 100 miles per hour  
  
The steering wheel begin to shake, the world going by so fast. He couldn't get a good glimpse of it. It slipped from his sight, like everything in his life slipped from him. Tears rolled down his pale cheeks, he blinked his hurt blue eyes trying to stay focused. /Yamato, don't cry. / Don't cry. He remembered his mother, when he was little she would hold him and whisper soothing words into his ears. /You're going to make me cry too, I don't like seeing you sad. / He loved his mother, but she was always busy with work and with Takeru. Was he jealous? Of course he was. Why did He think of his mother though? He should be angry she abandoned him too! She was like everyone else, yet, with her image in his mind, her smiling down at him, it felt right. He couldn't hate her. She loved him, and he wouldn't hurt her by his death.  
  
100 90 80 miles per hour and slowing  
  
His mother was his angel and savior. He rubbed his tears away. No more crying, he can be strong, even if it's only for his mother. 80 70 60 miles per hour  
  
His head hurt from all the crying. Taking his eyes away from the road, he looked in his dashboard cabinet for a bottle of Advil. Popping the lid off he swallowed a few dry and threw the filled bottle on the floor. That's when he realized how close to the city he was. Tall buildings and bright lights shined in the distance, but a pair of red break lights in front of him caught his attention. He slammed on the breaks, swerving off the road and down a steep ditch. He screamed in absolute pain as his car flipped over, and he was thrown around the inside of his car. It flipped once, twice, and three times before he was thrown in to the darkness, leaving his broken and bloody body behind. 


End file.
